


Havana

by Ceia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Lactation Kink, Mercy being kinda milfy, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, Submissive Junkrat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13696185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceia/pseuds/Ceia
Summary: Mercy has invited Junkrat over for popcorn and a movie. He's pretty nervous, but she seems to know just what to do to help him relax.





	Havana

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble for literallyananime on Tumblr, but it ended up being longer than I anticipated. Please check out her amazing art: http://literallyananime.tumblr.com !!!!

Junkrat takes a deep breath before reaching out and knocking on the front door. He runs a hand through his hair while he waits for her to answer, though it’s more of a nervous habit than a genuine attempt to tame it. When Angela opens the door he snaps his metal hand behind his back to hide the bundle of daffodils he’s brought her, and gives her an awkward wave with his human one in greeting.

“Evenin’!” he says.

“Gosh, right on time,” Angela says, grinning up at him. “Come in.”

Junkrat cautiously steps inside. She closes the door behind him and when she reaches out to hug him he thrusts the daffodils forwards instead, startling her.

“Oh!”

“I, uh – got these for ya,” he says, smiling sheepishly. Angela’s face lights up as she takes them from him.

“Oh, Jamie, they’re lovely!” she says. Junkrat melts in the same way he does every bloody time she calls him that, and scratches his human arm with metal fingers now that he doesn’t have anything to hold.

“Heh. Glad ya like ‘em,” he says, gazing at her. Angela’s wearing red lipstick and her hair is down, all soft blonde locks around her face and shoulders. The cami top she’s wearing is dangerously low cut, too. Junkrat purses his lips together and tries to keep his eyes on hers, wishing Angela wasn’t so fucking beautiful that just looking at her was enough to make him sweat.

“I’ll have to find a nice vase for them to go in,” she says, smiling softly down at the yellow petals. Then she steps closer to him, and Junkrat prickles when she rests her free hand delicately over his chest.

“Thank you,” Angela says, leaning up towards him and closing her eyes.

Shit. He can’t believe she’s going in for a kiss already. Their first only happened last week when they were sitting in the back of the truck on their way back from an assignment. Angela spent the entire day pocketing him, and after having the hots for her for so bloody long Junkrat decided he was tired of pussyfooting around and just grabbed her into a kiss when Winston was outside fuelling up and Jack had gone to pay. The last thing he was expecting to come from it was a second kiss the next day in the privacy of her office, let alone an invitation to come over to her place for a cosy evening in with popcorn and a movie.

Junkrat gently holds Angela by the shoulders, trying to pretend that his stomach isn’t churning and that this isn’t their third ever kiss when he bends down and gives her a soft peck on the lips.

“Thanks for havin’ me,” he says shyly, when he pulls back. His face feels very hot when she smiles up at him, a dreamy look in her eyes that makes his knees go weak.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Angela says. “Anyway, come on through.”

Junkrat cringes when she takes his human hand. She doesn’t seem bothered by how clammy it is, though, lacing her fingers in his while leading him through her house. It’s as big and fancy as he pictured, with high ceilings and framed paintings dotted around on the walls.  He’s been gagging for an opportunity like this for months but now that he’s actually here with her Junkrat is bricking it, acutely aware of how scruffy he looks and the loud clunking of his pegleg on the polished wooden floorboards. He feels unworthy of her presence whenever he’s in the same bloody room as her at headquarters, so being in Angela’s house is not only unbelievable, it’s excruciating. God knows how he’s going to make it through the rest of the evening sitting next to her when he’s practically shitting himself just holding her hand.

Angela brings him into her open plan kitchen, releasing his hand to walk over to the sink. Junkrat leans against the doorway to try and steady himself from the lingering weakness in his knees. Christ, even her kitchen is spotless. How in the actual fuck has he ended up here?

“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for watching, so I figured we could just stream something,” she says, setting the daffodils down. Junkrat bites his lip, watching the hourglass of Angela’s body stretch out as she balances up on her toes to pluck a vase from one of the cupboards. She’s in a pencil skirt that’s so tight it may as well be a second skin, exaggerating her tiny waist and the childbearing curve of her hips. Makes her arse look like a fucking peach, too. Jesus.

“Yeah, that’s – anything’s fine with me,” Junkrat laughs, staring at it. He’s probably going to spend the entire evening trying not to get a boner so he doesn’t really care what they watch.

“Excellent,” Angela says, more to the flowers than to his response. She sets the vase down in the middle of the kitchen island and then steps over to the refrigerator, the clacking of her heels sending shivers down Junkrat’s spine.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks, opening the door. “I have beers and cider, if that’s the sort of thing you like.”

Angela gestures for him to take a look. Junkrat steps over and peeks inside, though he freezes up at the feel of her hand on his back. A beer would probably help his nerves, but his car is parked next to hers and he knows better than to have any alcohol if he’s going to be driving home later on, which he’s absolutely assuming he is as Angela didn’t specify whether or not she wanted him to stay. Junkrat’s going to have a hard enough time not fucking this up as it is, so he doesn’t really want anything carbonated that might come back on him when they’re in the middle of watching a movie, anyway.

“Y’know what, I think I’ll, uh – I’ll just have some water if that’s alright,” he says, smiling awkwardly at her. Angela frowns, rubbing his back.

“Are you sure? I have spirits too, if you’d prefer.”

“Nah, best not. Not when I’m driving.”

“Ah, of course.” Angela reaches in for a bottle of red wine before nudging the door closed with her hip. “Well, I’m very impressed that you’re being such a good boy,” she purrs, glancing over her shoulder at him while she opens it.

Junkrat laughs, a panicked sort of giggle at the hot rush he gets from being called a ‘good boy’ in Angela’s indulgent accent.

“Yep, I’ve uh - gotta be on me best behaviour!” he says, watching as she pours out some water for him followed by a glass of wine for herself. His fingers brush hers when she hands it over, and then she’s leaning back against the counter, taking a sip from her glass.

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that,” Angela says, smiling at him. “We aren’t in work now, after all. Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

Depends what you’re offering, Junkrat thinks, eyes flitting over her body. He’s trying his best not to objectify her but she looks like such a fucking milf in that skirt and top he can’t help himself. The glass of wine in her hand is only making it worse. What’s a fucking – classy woman like Mercy doing letting someone like him into her house? He might’ve scored himself a kiss already but somehow it isn’t making this any easier to comprehend. Fuck, if only he wasn’t so nervous.

“I – nah, I’m good ta,” Junkrat says, managing what he hopes is a confident grin. “Ready for some popcorn though!”

“Oh yes,” Angela says, touching his back again to guide him over to the kitchen island. Looks like she’s already prepared some. “What’s your preference? Salty, sweet or buttered?”

“Uh,” he says, having to remind himself that she’s talking about the popcorn. “Think it’s gotta be sweet for me.”

“I thought you might like it sweet,” Angela says, lifting one of the plastic bowls. “If there’s nothing else you’d like, would you mind carrying it for me?”

“’Course, no problem!” Junkrat says, grabbing it off her with his metal hand. He swears when a few kernels spill out over the floor but Angela just chuckles, tipping her head towards the door so that he follows her out.

She chats easily as she takes him through the house. Junkrat is distracted from their conversation when she starts leading him up the stairs and he’s suddenly faced with a perfect view of Mercy’s perfect fucking arse. Her skirt isn’t short enough to get a sneaky look up but her legs seem to go on for days as he walks up behind her. Junkrat has stared at them - well, at Angela generally - a lot before now when they’ve been posted out on missions together, but it’s different when she’s up close like this without her Valkyrie suit containing all of her curves. Her legs are bare tonight, no tights or leggings on to cover up her milky skin.

Junkrat tries looking away from Angela, he really does, but by the time she’s guiding them into the lounge it’s taking all of his willpower to stop his dick from getting hard. She slips her heels off and pads across the room to switch on some lamps, and when she turns to see Junkrat still hesitating by the doorway she offers him a sympathetic smile.

“Please, Jamie, make yourself at home,” Angela says, coming over to him and gently squeezing his biceps. She seems to like touching them, does it quite a lot even when they’re at work. “Go and get settled on the couch, it won’t take me a minute to set up.”

“Alright,” Junkrat laughs, embarrassed that he needs to be told to sit down. The fuck’s going on? He’s got no reason to be this nervous - been with plenty of girls before now. Just because none of them were anywhere near Angela’s level shouldn’t make him spaghetti this fucking hard. It’s only a movie date for Christ’s sake.

He drops down onto the sumptuous looking couch, setting the popcorn and his boring glass of water aside. Both of his legs are jittering. Junkrat is grateful that the floor in here is carpeted so the tapping of his pegleg isn’t too noisy, but he rubs his hands furiously over his thighs to try and curb it anyway.

“Got a nice house here, Angie!” he says, eyes darting around the room before he looks over to see Angela on all fours, her body in a provocative curve as she reaches out to switch the TV on. Junkrat puffs his cheeks and blows out a long breath, not even bothering to attempt looking away. Fucking hell.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling over her shoulder at him. “Perhaps I could come and visit you sometime, too, and see what your house is like.”

Junkrat scoffs. “Don’t think you’d like that,” he says, eyes still stuck on her raised arse while she fiddles with the surround sound system. “My flat’s a fucking mess.”

“I can’t say I’m particularly shocked by that,” Angela says, a fond note to it that makes his face feel hot again. She’s standing up now, carefully tugging her skirt down as she saunters back over to him. “It wouldn’t make a difference to me, though.”

Junkrat’s stomach flips over. “Well, you’d be, uh – more than welcome anytime!” he says, half laughing even though he’s beside himself that she’s entertaining the idea of there being any more than this one date she’s inexplicably granted him.

“I might just have to take you up on that.”

Angela takes the velvet blanket that’s piled on the ottoman, and Junkrat grabs the popcorn into his lap so she can settle beside him. Even when she takes a seat she’s elegant, smoothing a hand beneath her thighs to stop her skirt from wrinkling. He gets a ball in his throat watching her that seems to swell when she nestles in close to his side, and she hooks her right arm in his left one while tapping at the remote.

Junkrat should be used to Angela being tactile with him like this. Aside from her frequent admiration of his biceps she’s been a little more hands on than usual when he’s gone for his routine medicals. Now that she’s sitting so close to him, though - her clothed body warm and soft against his, her tit pressing against his bicep – Junkrat is finding it very difficult to keep his thoughts in check. The effort it’s taking to stop himself getting hard from all the eye candy she’s been feeding him so far is giving him a slight headache, too, so he chugs down some water in the hopes it’ll ease off.

“Now then, what would you like to watch?” Angela asks. He can feel her eyes on him but Junkrat stares straight ahead at the TV.

“Uh, phew, dunno really,” he says, trying to sound casual. “How about some cheesy horror flick?”

Angela chuckles, squeezing his arm.

“I can assure you, we won’t need anything like that,” she says. There’s a hint of… something in the way she says it that does make Junkrat look at her, then. The line of her cleavage has him glancing sharply away again though, and his laugh is several pitches higher than normal when he stares blindly back at the TV.

“In that case, whatever you want!” he says, wondering how he’s sitting here with her right now when he’s clearly so fucking terrible at this. Angela hums.

“Okay, let’s see what I can find.”

She picks out some recent superhero blockbuster. Junkrat actually pirated this a few weeks ago – has it on the pen drive in his pocket from when he’d watched it with Hana and Lúcio – but he doesn’t mention it, happy that she’s chosen something he already knows so that if she asks him about it afterwards he’ll probably have an answer.

The movie starts playing. Junkrat lifts his human arm up when Angela wraps the blanket around them. In a boost of confidence now that they’re settling in he snakes it around her shoulders, drawing her against him and shivering at the feel of her smooth bare skin on his. Angela glances up at him like she’s surprised by this bold initiation, but when Junkrat smiles shyly down at her she gives him another one of those dreamy looks and tips her head back.

“Jamie,” she says, lowering her eyes. It still makes his stomach coil up, but thankfully it’s a little easier to dip down and oblige her with a kiss, this time.

Junkrat can’t believe he’s finally on a date with Mercy. He should be relaxed seeing as he doesn’t need to worry about making conversation for the next two hours, but he isn’t. The unfortunate side effect of having Angela close is that he can’t seem to stop glancing down at her, wanting to drink in her pretty face and blonde hair tousled over her shoulders like that. Doesn’t help that her tits look fucking great in that top she’s wearing.

It isn’t just that, though. The press of her body on his is enough to have Junkrat’s dick twinging and the sweet smell of her perfume is overwhelming. Now he’s got Angela tucked in beside him every unappealing thought in the world wouldn’t be enough to stop him getting hard. Junkrat has the bowl of popcorn strategically positioned over his lap to try and cover it, but every time she reaches across to take some he thinks she’s about to touch him.

Jesus, why does he have to have such a dirty mind? S’not Angela’s fault she has a great rack and an arse he could sink his teeth into. Admittedly she has been pretty flirty with him, and in the still-unlikely event that this movie date somehow _does_ lead into something more raunchy Junkrat’s got a couple of condoms in his pocket ready. But all of this is stressing him out far more than it should considering he’s already done the hard part and kissed her in the first place – knows with certainty that she at least likes him back. There’s really no reason for him to be this anxious.

“Hey,” Angela says, tugging on his shirt. Junkrat smiles down at her.

“Yeah?”

“Can we move the popcorn?”

Fuck.

“Don’t – uh, don’tcha wanna keep it here where y’can reach it?” he asks, panicking. Angela shakes her head.

“I want to be closer to you,” she says. Her eyes are hopeful as she gazes up at him. Junkrat purses his lips.

“Gotcha,” he says, because how can he say no to that? He carefully eases the bowl of popcorn over to the arm of the couch, and Angela immediately slides her hand beneath the blanket and across his chest, giving this happy sigh of a sound that’s just cute enough for him to forgive her. Junkrat angles his hips and raises his knees slightly so the blanket creates a safe tent between his legs, feeling a bit better now that his boner isn’t visible even if he isn’t particularly comfortable.

It’s… okay, it’s really nice having her hand on him, but it’s also really, _really_ not helping his hard on. Especially when she keeps squirming like she’s trying to get comfy, too, squishing her tits against his chest in the process. Junkrat is hot anyway from the stress of this whole thing, but now that Angela’s cuddled into him beneath the blanket he’s really starting to sweat. Fuck, he wishes she’d stop moving, that he could just – sit here and enjoy being with her without thinking about her on all fours, what underwear she’s got on under that tight fucking skirt. How soft her tits would be if they were bare and in his hands.

“Are you alright?” she asks, suddenly. Junkrat blinks down at her, grateful to be dragged out of his little fantasy.

“I – uh, yeah? Why?”

Angela pouts at him, her hand sliding down from his chest until it’s over his stomach. Junkrat’s eyes widen.

“You seem a little uncomfortable,” she says. “Would you like me to move?”

“What? No way!” he laughs, giving her shoulders a squeeze. He’d rather suffer through his erection than have her move away from him. Angela seems reassured by this and turns her attention back to the movie.

“If you’re sure,” she sighs.

Junkrat bristles when her fingers tease the hem of his shirt, slipping under. Then her palm is flush on his skin, fingers grazing his stomach and making his entire body tense. Angela shuffles a little deeper into the blanket and her hand slides lower, brushing over the hair trailing down from his navel. Liquid heat pools inside him under her touch. What… what’s she doing?

“R- Really, I’m fine,” Junkrat says, hating that this is enough to make him stutter, that his voice is going squeaky. He can’t even see what she’s doing because it’s all hidden under the blanket.

“Hmm…”

Angela’s hand slips off his skin. He’s about to exhale his relief when she drags it over the buckle of his belt instead. Junkrat’s breath hitches. Then she’s running her palm over the raised bump of his crotch, an indirect touch that’s more than enough to make his dick pulse.

“Shit,” Junkrat says, a mortified breath. He’s so tensed up he can’t move.

“Oh?” Angela asks, curiously. It sounds like she’s grinning, but he can’t see her face because her head is cushioned on his chest. She presses firmer, feeling out his cock. “What have we here?”

Junkrat jolts when she drags her hand over him, giving his dick a firm rub through his shorts.

“L- Look, Angie, I’m really sorry—”

 “Shhhh,” she says, nuzzling his chest with her cheek. In the time it takes for him to draw breath Angela has unbuckled his belt and her hand is dipping into his shorts.

“Fuck,” Junkrat gasps, legs spreading automatically. Angela chuckles.

“Gosh, I thought you were tense,” she says, sounding impressed as she strokes over the length of his dick where it’s strained in his boxers. “No wonder you’ve been so nervous.”

Junkrat whimpers. He’s hard as rock now that he’s no longer trying to suppress his boner and chokes when Angela’s fingers slip beneath the band of his boxers. She grasps his cock in her soft hand and gives an appreciative hum that reverberates in his belly, makes searing heat twist and coil inside it.

“Fuck,” he says again, hissing this time.

“There’s certainly a lot of you, isn’t there?” Angela purrs, fingers dancing along the length. Junkrat’s arm is tight around her back but he brings his metal hand up to his face, dragging it over his mouth and jaw. He can’t fucking believe this is happening.

“Ange,” he says, dipping down to huff against her hair. “Whu—what’re ya doin’, y’don’t hafta—”

“Why don’t you just let me take care of you, hmm?” she asks, so sweetly, as she starts to pump his cock. Junkrat moans, trying to process the unbelievable fact that Angela is initiating something like this. The more pressing fact, however, is how fucking good it feels to be touched by her – to have Mercy’s hand in his boxers, wrapped around his dick and jerking him off.

“Is that better?” she asks, almost cooing.

“Y-Yeah,” he says, helplessly, ashamed of how shaky he is just from getting a fucking wristy, from the sweetness of her voice when she’s doing something so lewd. He’s properly sweating now, has to wipe his human hand across his forehead because she’s still doing all this under the blanket. Usually Junkrat gets naked when he beats one out but she hasn’t given him an opportunity to get comfortable. Angela’s palm is a little clammy but it feels fucking heavenly on his dick, seems to add more friction to her strokes and gives her a better grip on him.

“Feels like you’re getting even harder for me,” she says, softly. “You enjoy being milked like this, don’t you, Jamie?”

Junkrat groans, cringing at how fucking turned on he is by her motherly tone, the sly grin on her face when she finally turns to look up at him.

“J- Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, voice trembling, metal fingers splayed over his eyes to cover them. Junkrat doesn’t really want to imagine her doing this with anyone else but she must’ve had a lot of practice to be this good at it, pumping him with a firm and perfectly rhythmic hand.

“Mm… you’re still very tense,” Angela says, now sounding like she’s assessing him in her office – like he’s failing his latest medical. Junkrat is embarrassed by the whine he gives when she lets go of him, but he flinches when she pushes down his shorts and boxers and pulls the blanket over her head, ducking down towards his crotch. Junkrat’s stomach lurches at the feel of her breath over his cock and her hand holding the base of it.

“Wha- Angie, whaddya think you’re — _fuck!_ ”

His question is cut off when the head of his dick is enveloped by the hot wetness of Angela’s mouth, a strangled sound coming out of his throat from the sudden shock of it. When she starts to suck he grips the covers of the couch in both hands, hissing out a string of cusses while her tongue slides over him, guiding more of the length past her lips. Then she’s sucking harder, stroking in time to the bobbing of her head.

“F- Fucking—shit,” Junkrat pants, staring down at the blanketed curve of Angela’s head between his legs. He wipes his hand over his forehead again, dizzy from the heat of her mouth and the blanket swamping his lower half. Angela _mmm_ s around him like she’s enjoying a decadent meal, and Junkrat shudders, moaning out from the blindingly good feeling of being sucked off. His hips arch involuntarily when she takes even more of him, head meeting the soft wall of her throat, and he whimpers at it, wondering how the fuck he’s been so panicked about holding her hand and having a gawk at her arse when Angela is now deep throating his cock like it’s nothing.

“A- Ange, if – if ya keep doin’ this, I’m—it’s—” he says, trying to speak, to string together a sentence to let her know that he’s already impossibly close to coming from this. Junkrat’s stamina isn’t the greatest at the best of times but the fact he’s already about to shoot his load is fucking humiliating. He gives a pathetic whine when all at once Angela pulls away and off him, throwing the blanket behind her and sitting back up with a soft exhalation. Finally Junkrat can see his own dick – the lipstick smudged over it from where it’s just been in her mouth – and his breathing is shallow, coming in quick bursts when Angela faces him, smiling with lowered eyes. She tucks her hair behind her ear and runs her middle finger neatly beneath her lip to collect the excess saliva that’s spilled out. Junkrat grimaces, still trying to catch his breath from where he’s been left on the edge of coming, and it seems totally unfair that Angela still looks refined even though she’s just had his cock in her throat - that sweet, innocent Mercy is dishevelled from sucking him off when he’s spent this entire evening panicking about doing or saying the wrong thing.

“You were really going to come for me just from that?” she asks, an amused edge to it that makes Junkrat’s stomach squirm horribly. “Don’t tell me it’s been that long for you, Jamie. I barely did anything.”

And now she’s chastising him - as if he couldn’t be any more embarrassed about this entire fucking thing. Junkrat tries to vocalise some sort of defence against this but he just sputters, another pathetic sound. His face burns under her incredulous gaze, the arched eyebrow that’s all but screaming how unimpressed she is, and Junkrat stares down at his navel, too ashamed to look at her or at his dick, still throbbing in the aftermath of being so expertly sucked and now leaking precome over his abdomen. Every time he fantasized about this the roles were totally reversed – _he_ was the one guiding _her_ through it, coaxing and grinning while Mercy was timid and reserved, barely able to take more than a few inches.

“It’s – I just—” he starts, eyes flicking away from his navel to stare at the couch, the popcorn, anywhere that isn’t her. He’s shaking, heart thudding in his chest even though the only blood it seems to be pumping is going straight to his dick. “I- fuck, Angie, I-I didn’t think you’d wanna just—”

Suddenly Angela gets up off the couch.

“Such a shame,” she sighs. When Junkrat chances a look up at her he jolts, because she’s already pulled her cami off and now she’s unhooking her bra. She drops it, and his breath catches when she turns back to him, those big tits finally out and there for him to stare at openly. Her nipples are pink, all soft and delicate and totally at odds with the wicked smile on her face.

“I was rather hoping I’d be able to suck that nice thick cock of yours for much longer than that,” Angela says, hands on her hips as she steps back between his legs. Junkrat chokes out a disbelieving laugh, having never once imagined those words coming out of her mouth, but his stomach curdles when she leans down and teases her fingers along the length of his dick.

“But it seems like that’s too much for you,” Angela says, “so I’ll just have to look after you in other ways.”

She tugs his boxers and shorts down over his thighs in such a curt movement that it makes him yelp, and he jerks back into the couch when she starts climbing onto him, that tight skirt riding up as she kneels over his lap.

“Angie, wha—”

“There, that’s _much_ better,” she says. Junkrat’s eyes are now level with those gorgeous tits he’s been leering at all evening, but rather than feeling elated he wants to shrink into the couch, completely overwhelmed by it.

“Can’t believe this,” he whimpers. Junkrat covers his face with both hands, trying to hide from his own embarrassment of being so incredibly wrong about Angela’s sexual confidence, how painfully fucking hard he is from being dominated by pure, angelic Mercy.

“Oh, Jamie, don’t be shy,” she says, grasping his hands into both of her own and peeling them off his face. Her cheeks are pink and her smile is soft, sympathetic like it was earlier, but it only serves to make the squirming in his stomach even worse. Why in the fuck is he so cripplingly nervous when this is every wet dream he’s ever had coming to life? If this was any other girl he’d have bent her over the couch and fucked her for daring to tease him like this, but because it’s Mercy he’s—he can’t--- can’t even think straight.

“I’m going to take care of you,” she says, an alluring lilt to it that’s emphasised when she rolls her hips over him. He’s ashamed by the moan she forces out of him in doing so, but what really gets Junkrat’s attention is the alarmingly wet feeling of her crotch on his. His eyes widen when he drags them down over her body and sees that Angela is, in fact, bottomless. That tight skirt is hitched up around her waist and she isn’t wearing any fucking underwear at all.

“You’ve – you mean to tell me you’ve been fucking—” he starts, scowling up at her, but the rest of his sentence breaks into a groan when she rolls again, forwards this time, pressing her creamy tits into his face.

“Maybe this will help,” she says, bringing her left nipple to Junkrat’s mouth. His lips part easily for her but he gives an _mph!_ when she pushes, practically shoves it in his face.

“Now then, are you going to be a good boy for me and suck?” Angela asks, biting her lip around this coy little smile like she isn’t making Junkrat’s cock pulse so hard it hurts. He whimpers and sucks immediately, drowning in how desperately he needs to hear her say it again.

“Ohhh, yes, that’s it,” Angela says, shifting over his lap. Her cunt must be soaked because he can feel the wet slide of it over his dick, makes him whimper around her tit. “Now the other one.”

Junkrat has enough time to draw a wet breath before she’s shoving her right nipple against his mouth. He sucks obediently, eyebrows drawn together, hands braced on Angela’s wide hips. She moans out, a far sluttier sound than he ever thought she was capable of making, and runs her manicured fingernails through his hair, scratching over his scalp to tug him closer and force more of her tit into his mouth. Junkrat has no choice but to suck harder, and he does eagerly, needing to hear it, craving the reward.

“Mh, you really like that, don’t you?" Angela purrs. "Such a good boy."

Fuck, there it is. Junkrat’s fingers dig into her hips, his body burning from being praised like this, rewarded for sucking so greedily.

“Oh, Jamie, you must be starving. It’s like you’re trying to get milk out of me,” she coos, still running her fingers through his hair. Junkrat groans from how unimaginably sexy it is that she’s dirty talking like this. “You realise you’d have to get me pregnant for that, don’t you?”

“ _Grk!_ ”

Jesus fucking Christ. Junkrat’s had a lot of fantasies about Mercy, but that one in particular is his darkest, the most potent fuel reserved only for the times when he’s feeling especially depraved.

“Gosh, I can feel your cock twitching under me,” she says, like she’s impressed. “Perhaps now you might be ready for a little more than this, hmm?”

Angela keeps her tits pressed into his face so all he can do is make a muffled sound of agreement. She laughs, breathily, and Junkrat gasps for air when she pulls off him, both nipples slick and peaked from being sucked. Angela wipes off the trail of moisture left from his lips, and then she’s cupping his face, gazing down at him with lowered eyes.

“What do you think, Jamie, would you like more?”

He doesn’t want more, he fucking _needs_ more.

“Y- Yeah, need- need more,” Junkrat breathes, nodding dumbly. Angela lifts her eyebrows at him.

“You need more…?”

Junkrat cringes. He knows exactly what she’s asking for and looks away from her. He wets his lips, ashamed of himself for being so fucking passive – for needing this so badly that he has no choice.

“P- Please,” he adds, a shy and shaking breath.

Angela brings him into a kiss. She forcibly tilts his head to stop their teeth from clinking and her tongue forces his lips apart, ravaging his mouth. Junkrat groans into it, tasting some of his dick but mostly the red wine she was drinking earlier. There’s nothing refined about Angela now, her lips and tongue sloppy on his, fingers gripped in the fabric of his shirt. Junkrat allows himself to be pushed into the couch as she leans over him, into him, Mercy the only thing he can taste and smell – the only thing he wants now that she’s spoiling him so thoroughly. By the time she pulls back he’s gasping again, thirsty for air.

“Such excellent manners,” Angela says, stroking her thumbs over his cheek. “I think you deserve a reward for being so well behaved.”

Fucking _hell_ she’s good at this. Far better than he ever expected, ever dreamed. Junkrat wishes he hadn’t underestimated her, that he’d somehow been prepared for this even though he thought he was. Then she starts shifting back like she’s getting ready to fuck herself on him, and he panics.

“Look, Angie,” he starts, willing himself to construct a proper sentence even though his brain is collapsing from the prospect of actually fucking her. “If- if we’re gonna do this right now, I ain’t gonna…”

Junkrat bites his lip, not wanting to say it. A curious smile spreads over Angela’s lips.

“Hmm?” she asks. Junkrat shrinks into the couch, looking at her tits, her thighs spread over his hips. If she’s really going to fuck him right now he’s probably going to last all of a minute before shooting his load. But he’s so horny that his cock is aching, needing some – no, any kind of release. If the alternative is not fucking her at all… it looks like he’s gonna have to bite the bullet on this one.

“I- I ain’t gonna last long,” he says, humiliated from having to admit it.

“Oh, Jamie,” Angela chuckles, cupping his cheeks again. “I know you’re not.”

He groans, reaching up to hide his face with his metal arm. She pulls it down, allowing no escape from his embarrassment.

“All I want is to help you relax,” she says. “So how about you stop worrying, and let me take care of you. Yes? Does that sound good?”

Junkrat grimaces, holding her eyes even though he wants the ground to swallow him up.

“A- Alright,” he mumbles.

“That’s better,” she coos, patting his cheeks. Then she’s moving again, shifting over his cock.

“Wuh- wait, we need, I gotta,” he says hurriedly, rummaging in his pocket. Angela’s hand darts out to grab his when he pulls out a condom, though. When she grins down at his confused expression there’s something especially wicked about it that has a different, more primal kind of heat spiking inside him. Oh fuck, Junkrat thinks. Surely she’s not gonna-

“There’s no need for that,” Angela says. “I know you’re clean.”

He laughs incredulously. No way.

“You—but how can—”

“I checked,” she says, eyes narrowing.

Oh. Right. Of course she fucking did, seeing as she’s apparently had this planned from the start. Probably plotted it all out the second he kissed her last week, if he’s been so obvious about liking her that she’s already fucking checked.

Junkrat blows out a breath and scratches his human hand through his hair. For all of his nasty fantasies, even he knows it’s probably not a good idea. But he can’t pretend he doesn’t want this - that he hasn’t gotten off hard to it so many times before. So he purses his lips, telling himself that he’ll just have to pull out, and quietly pushes the condom back into his pocket.

Angela hums her approval. She lifts up, angling herself over him, and Junkrat gulps down his nerves now that his ultimate fantasy is about to come true. She rubs the head of his cock over her lips – laughs sweetly at the whimper it elicits from him – and then she’s guiding him in.

“Fuck,” Junkrat huffs, gripping her hips. He thinks she’s going to ease herself on gradually – knows he’s pretty big after all – so when Angela just drops right onto him with a loud, wet smack he chokes from the shock of it.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” she sighs, eyelashes fluttering now that she’s hilted on him. Junkrat grits his teeth and hisses at the incredible feeling of her cunt stretching around his raw dick, hot and wet and oh so ready for him. Then she starts to move, impaling herself, and Junkrat’s eyes roll back into his head, moaning with his mouth hanging open from the unbelievable pleasure of being ridden into the couch by this perfect fucking woman.

He often imagined rawing her before but it never happened like this. The Mercy in his fantasies was always submissive, a subservient little slut completely under his control. She’d whimper when he fucked her bareback and beg for him to pull out so that she wouldn’t get pregnant. Now Angela is riding him so hard her tits are bouncing and Junkrat is totally helpless beneath her, grunting and moaning as he watches her thick thighs slap over his hips. She’s utterly shameless, arching her back and bending her arms to run her hands through her hair. It’s pressing just about every button he has, and the wet slapping of his cock repeatedly sinking into her is bringing him so close to coming that his balls are already beginning to tighten.

“A- Ange, please,” Junkrat begs, voice embarrassingly hoarse, “I’ve gotta pull out—it’s—I’m gonna fucking—”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” she asks, almost laughing. “To fuck me raw like this? Fill me up?”

Junkrat covers his face, groaning into his hands and completely mortified by how turned on he is by her saying this. He never once thought pure, angelic Mercy would be so fucking filthy.

“Come for me, Jamie,” Angela commands, panting the words out. “Fill me up with that fucking come!”

She’s slamming and grinding down on him like she’s trying to milk it out of him. It’s one thing to fetishize Angela as a milf, but the possibility of actually making her one proves to be too much. Junkrat bucks up, unloading into her with a long, loud groan that cracks as it leaves his throat, every muscle tensing from how hard he comes. Angela laughs, curving her body like she’s drinking it in, and then she rakes her hands down over his chest, watching the heavy rise and fall of it with lidded eyes.

“Jesus, fucking hell,” Junkrat pants out, metal hand splayed across his face. Feels like his heart’s gonna burst out of his chest, body hot and damp with sweat. He whines when Angela clenches around him like even now she’s trying to squeeze him dry. His hips thrust involuntarily a couple more times, and then he’s empty, melting into the couch now that he’s boneless from the immense relief of coming. Angela squirms, still seated on him and smiling wickedly.

“Well done,” she breathes, rubbing his belly with both hands. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Junkrat nods, exhausted. He almost can’t believe any of this has just happened. Angela eases off him, and he shudders when he peeks through his fingers and sees the trail of come connecting her cunt to his dick. Must’ve came fucking deep inside her for so little to come out - another thought which has him shuddering and isn’t nearly as concerning as he knows it should be. Jesus.

Angela tugs her skirt down when she gets up off his lap. She doesn’t seem at all affected by any of what they’ve just done, casually stepping over to swipe her bra and top off the floor. She pulls them back on and disappears for a minute, coming back in with a cloth and some tissue. Junkrat is still trying to get his breath back, doesn’t really have any coherent thoughts when he starts mopping himself up. Angela takes over anyway, and Junkrat knows he should be embarrassed by this but he’s so relieved from coming that he honestly doesn’t give a fuck, happy to let her clean him in the haze of his afterglow. It’s kinda nice having her hands all gentle on him anyway.

When she’s done he manages to pull his boxers and shorts back up. Junkrat is half expecting Angela to tell him he can leave now, but she surprises him by settling back on the couch and opening her arms out to him.

“Come closer, Jamie.” Her smile is soft and her eyes are warm, beautiful face flushed, hair tousled. Junkrat is too fuzzy and tired to be at all nervous now, and his body moves automatically, wanting to be near her again.

“Shit, I _really_ needed that,” he laughs, slumping in against her side. Angela wraps her arms around him and Junkrat grins into her neck, surprised at how much better he feels and how easy it is to just – be like this with her now that he isn’t stressed out anymore.

“You really did,” Angela observes. “Hopefully you’ll be able to relax now.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Think so. Thanks, Angie.”

He presses a kiss to her cheek. Angela beams at him, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips in kind.

“You’re welcome,” she says, keeping him cuddled close when she looks back to the TV. The popcorn has long since fallen off the arm of the couch but the movie’s still playing, and Junkrat nuzzles against her chest where he’s curled into her, ready to properly enjoy their date. There’s still one thing niggling at him, though, now that he’s coming down from such a powerful high.

“Hey, uh… m’really sorry I didn’t getcha off,” he says, sort of mumbling into her chest.

“There’s no need to worry about that,” Angela says, sincerely. She’s petting his hair, doesn’t look away from the TV. “There’s still plenty of time for you to make it up to me later on.”

Junkrat blinks.

“Later – later on?” he asks, staying still in her arms. Angela chuckles.

“You really didn’t think you were going to stay tonight? That’s so sweet.” She kisses his forehead. “But I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere until I’ve had you in my bed.”

Junkrat gapes at her. Angela finally looks away from the TV and offers him a sinful smile, one that sends a rush of heat right through him.

“I doubt such a virile young man as yourself will take too long to go again,” she says. “What do you think? Half an hour, perhaps?”

His dick has the audacity to twinge at this.

“I. Uh. It – maybe an hour?” he suggests, voice breaking. Angela sighs, giving him a little squeeze.

“Alright then, I suppose I can wait.”

Holy shit. She’s literally only just milked him dry and she’s already thinking about going again? Junkrat supposes that by now he shouldn’t be shocked by anything this woman says, but somehow he is, wondering what in the fuck he’s done to deserve Mercy’s inexplicable lust.

“You… You really want me to stay?” he asks her.

“Oh, absolutely,” Angela says, a touch of darkness to her voice that makes his stomach coil. “Your stamina is going to be much, _much_ better by the time I’m through with you, Jamie.”

Junkrat swallows, believing her.


End file.
